


anywhere you want to go

by rieunn



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Earth C (Homestuck), Emotionally Repressed, Hand Jobs, Healing, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Miscommunication, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Road Trips, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26351746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rieunn/pseuds/rieunn
Summary: There’s no way John would willingly choose to be around him without some kind of incentive, considering what happened last time they hung out. Especially since he hasn’t talked to him –reallytalked to him – since then.So.It just makes sense.And it’s fine. It’s totally fine.
Relationships: John Egbert/Dirk Strider
Comments: 13
Kudos: 99





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ectobaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectobaby/gifts).



> for theo's day of birth! (i love you and i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! :))

Dirk sits in the van, fingers drumming an unsure, meandering beat on the duffle bag that sits in his lap.

It’d be an understatement to say that he’s nervous. He’s always nervous. The feeling has made itself a nest of a home inside of him by burying its roots deep into his bones and has lived there rent-free since the very moment his feet touched ground on this otherworld soil. It turned him inside out with anxious anticipation of the unknowable. Shook him, something fearsome, and then kissed him into unsatisfied complacency.

He’s not at fault for it.

He knows this, probably.

After what his childhood was like, no one can blame him. No one has that right. He was so on guard for every little possible thing to happen and then all of the sudden the game flipped the bird at him and everyone else and dumped them all on some sort of fuckin’ wannabe utopia and... _obviously,_ he’s got some issues with that that he’s still struggling through.

But he’s not strange, he reminds himself. Everyone’s got them. And everyone’s got some sorta tick, now, too.

Like how Roxy always feels like she’s missing something, forgetting something, even when she’s been planning shit for weeks on end and has everything in place where she wants it.

Exhibit A: he’s been waiting in this car for her for - he checks the display on his shades – around thirty minutes, now. The source of his supplemental nervousness. Last night they even double-checked the checklist of supplies against what they had already gotten to make sure everything was packed and ready to go. What could she have forgotten that’s taking her _this fucking long_ to go grab?

Just when his thoughts start to get away from him again, wandering down the dark and dreary path of impossibly possible happenings, the car door opens, but something’s weird, something’s-

Oh.

Not just one car door, but two slam shut. Dirk turns to the driver’s seat first and makes eye contact with a vibrant Roxy, who’s just climbing in in her cute pink tank and flip-flops with a sheepish painted smile - guilty, but it’s bright and confusing, and he finds himself unable to glean anything from it. So, frowning, he twists round in his seat to see what the fuck is going on and is met with bright blue, inky black, and a blinding smile.

Oh fuck.

_Oh fuck oh no oh god oh fuck._

“Heya Dirk! How’s it going?” His voice is too chipper and Dirk can’t think, can’t breathe because _oh. fuuuck._ He glares vehemently at Roxy, who evades his gaze and shrinks into her seat, but with a false sense of secure nonchalance, peppy light to her eyes as she sticks the keys in the ignition and allows both Dirk and John the mercy of cutting off the heated reply he was likely seconds from delivering.

_How’s it going infuckindeed._

“Whoop, whoop! Now we’re so so so _so_ ready to get this mothafuckin’ party on the road! Hehe!” Roxy laughs at her own ill-timed pun and everything’s all summer and sunshine between both her and John, bubbly chatter about trivial things like fancy new rest stops named after them and what the weather’s looking like for the next few days and incandescent laughter and stupid, stupid nostalgic songs on the radio and Dirk feels like he’s just outside the eye of the storm, taking the full brute force of it in his own little unhappy corner.

Well. This is inconvenient.

* * *

Hours pass by and he still hasn’t asked like he’s wanted to. He can’t frame out how he should do it in his head. He can’t figure out why neither of them said anything to begin with.

_Why’s he here?_

_I thought it was just going to be you and I?_

_Why didn’t you warn me?_

_Haven’t I told you I’m not..._

Comfortable, yet. Not _yet._ There’s just... so _much,_ and it’s so stifling, and it grates on his nerves in a new way, a way he doesn’t like, a way he doesn’t want to give in to because he knows it’ll lead him astray and-

Hours pass by and he still hasn’t asked like he’s wanted to.

They reach the first hotel on the map by dusk.

* * *

The receptionist gives them a funny look when they walk through the door. She seems like she's torn between calling some burly security guard over and to have them tossed out the smudged double glass doors and falling to her knees to weep out of awe.

She knows who each of them are.

Of course, she does.

But she’s suspicious. Since that first day they arrived, they’ve all been so busy making shit happen and, well. When you can create just about anything you could possibly ever need without so much as batting an eyelash, you’ve got some kickass superpowers that "normal" people don’t really have, and you’re stuck babysitting the rest of the primitive population while building your old society’s skeleton from the ground-up from collective memories...

Let’s just say that Dirk in particular hasn’t really ended up getting out a whole lot, ‘specially not to meet new people who don’t really understand him or where he and his friends came from or why they can do what they can do at all. Others from among them have felt similarly. So, slowly but steadily, their little crew has become an urban legend of near-impossible, elusive celebrity gods to the locals; tv interviews, books, movies, kids’ costumes for Halloween– the list is endless, really. So, it’s really no surprise that the receptionist’s got that wary look in her eye. It grows more disbelieving by the second.

Roxy approaches the front desk with a wide grin.

“Hey there! We’d like a room! Oh, with double beds, pretty please?” She asks, giving her best impression of puppy dog eyes. This seems to break the woman out of her stupor. She blinks a few times and then a mechanically professional smile lights her face, even if a little distracted, and she turns to her desktop computer.

“Certainly, let me see what we have available...”

They talk back and forth about prices and room specificities for a few moments and then she asks Roxy for her ID and payment. When she complies, the receptionist’s eyes go wide and she fumbles with the cards, nearly dropping them, along with her jaw. Roxy beams. John giggles and his eyes light up with delight at the comical mischief of it all. Dirk curses himself for noticing this, lips thinning into a taut line.

The woman babbles profuse apologies – apologies for not recognizing them, for possibly coming off as rude, for not being able to provide them with better rooms – and it gets a little uncomfortable. None of them really care about any of that stuff, and they don’t know why people think they do. All in all, it takes up unnecessary time because it leads into small talk – and since they’ve all been in a car for hours on end with only small breaks here and there, it really hits the final nail into their collective energy coffin. As soon as the door closes behind them, Roxy throws herself onto the nearest bed.

John immediately starts teasing her and she’s smiling and playing right into it and then his face lights up and...

Dirk _was_ going to take this opportunity to finally ask.

But, watching this exchange, his heart twisting and aching in his chest... he feels like he knows the answer. He’s steadily seen more and more evidence to back his developing hypothesis over the course of the drive - and, if he really thinks about it, it’s the only plausible reason, anyways. There’s no way John would willingly choose to be around him without some kind of incentive, considering what happened last time they hung out. Especially since he hasn’t talked to him – _really_ talked to him – since then.

So.

It just makes sense.

And it’s fine. It’s totally fine.

He tunes back into the conversation, numb.

“I call the bed closest to the AC!” Roxy yells, jumping up from the bed she’d previously claimed only to fall onto the other one, spreading out for emphasis. “It’s alllll mine, hehe!” 

“How dare you? I can’t believe you would be so selfish! Simply unacceptable, I’m calling the authorities.” John feigns disbelief, playful, and Roxy only yawns and turns over onto her side.

“Well then, you can tell ‘em I’m the one who drove just about nine whole ass hours to get us all here, so I deserve it, hm?” John laughs and then, for the first time in weeks, he looks at Dirk, who seizes up under the sudden attention. His eyes are warm when he slings his arm around Dirk’s shoulders and speaks lazily.

“Yes, yes, Dirk and I will most definitely take the less comfortable option to cater to your very important needs without a single complaint, right?” he asks, voice prompting as he gives Dirk a playful wink that shouldn’t be as stupidly attractive to him as it is. He swallows dryly, feeling like he can’t even breathe to respond.

It’s been so long since he’s touched him so casually, like this.

_Casually._

Friendly.

Meaningless.

Get it together, Dirk.

He clears his throat and gives him what he wants. “Sure thing. But if your mattress were to, oh, I don’t know... somehow end up outside in that lake ‘round the back of this place with you on it for some weird, completely unrelated reason: it wasn’t us.”

Roxy bolts upright, laughing as she slings a pillow at them, and John’s arm leaves him. He hates the emptiness that gnaws at him in its wake, and he hates himself for feeling it.

“You wouldn’t _dare!”_

“Oh, but we would!”

The friendly banter and shenanigans persist well into the night until after everyone's ready to settle down and sleep the night away. Lying in bed while John showers, Dirk tries to close his eyes and will himself into a state of semi-unconsciousness, at the very least, but his body is completely awake. He curses himself for staying up later than he should have the previous night and then sleeping through the morning.

The sound of water coming from the bathroom stops, and so does Dirk’s heart. _Please, please, please,_ he begs himself, trying to force himself to relax even as his whole body tenses when the door clicks open.

For a few minutes, all Dirk can strain to hear are various movements around the room. Rustling. Something dropping to the floor. _His towel,_ Dirk realizes, face burning. Then there’s more rustling, the sound of footsteps, and then Dirk has to ignore the feeling that ignites inside of him when John slips under the covers of his side of the bed and it dips under his weight. He turns onto his side, keeping his eyes closed, willing himself to think of nothing at all. Roxy’s already fast asleep and he needs to follow her example, if it kills him. The sooner he can do it, the better.

But the universe hates him.

A poke to his back. “Hey, Dirk.”

He pretends to be asleep, heart pounding. He won’t talk to him. _He won’t._

“Diiirk.” Even if he whines his name all low and whispery like that. “C’mon, I know you’re awake!” No, he doesn’t. “You’re doing the thing.” What thing? “Y’know, flexing or something? Involuntarily, with little uh... twitches? I don't know! The thing. You don’t do it when you’re sleeping. See, you did it again, just now! Seriously, don’t make me tickle you or something. That would be so embarrassing for you.”

With an annoyed huff of defeat, Dirk opens his eyes and turns over, glaring.

“What. What do you want,” he grates out, punctuating angrily. John just smiles, eyes crinkling a little, and it’s confusing. His dark hair is still damp, and it’s an unkempt nest, untreated. He doesn’t have his glasses on, eyes even more infuriatingly saturated without the film of the glare.

“There you are,” he says, voice softer than it has been so far, and Dirk startles for it. His heart stutters in his chest. He clenches his fingers involuntarily into the sheets.

“... What,” Dirk clears his throat, “What is it?” John smiles again.

“How was it, today?” Dirk raises a brow and John shrugs. “The drive. It’s your first road trip, right? How was it?” he asks, and Dirk furrows his eyebrows.

“Um. Fine, I guess. Can I go back to sleep, now?”

Talking with him isn’t good for his heart and he's been trying to avoid it when he can. It's occurred to Dirk that maybe he’s trying to pretend things are back to normal, which... kudos to him for being able to do that, Dirk supposes. But it’s not like that, for him. He can’t just... pretend it didn’t happen. He can’t will what he feels away so easily. He suffocates trying to keep it inside and deal with it every day as it is.

“Fine how?” Ignored. Dirk’s eye twitches.

“Fine enough. So fine, in fact, that I’m exhausted and would really like for you to let me go back to sleep.” John shakes his head, nose nuzzling into his pillow.

“But you weren’t asleep. And if you were really that tired, you _would_ have been.” Dirk frowns.

“So? Even if that’s true, it was clear that I was _trying_. What do you want from me, Egbert?”

A beat of tense silence.

“... To talk. It’s been a while. I... wanna hear your voice. You were so quiet today, you know? I wanna know what was going through your head.”

Oh.

Well then.

The utter honesty of this response throws Dirk for a loop. That... is _not_ what he was expecting.

Fuck.

He feels too warm. His ears are burning. He can’t look at John, anymore. Not after that. It’s silent for a while – John doesn’t elaborate any further, and Dirk doesn’t know how to respond - or if he even should. So, when he finally speaks, he skirts around it.

“... It was fine, like I said. Just. There’s so much organic ground – obviously, yeah, but... I’m still getting used to seeing it and not just... ocean. And, I guess, I’m not really used to sitting still for that long, either. But it was nice, all things considered. Especially when the sun started going down. It was nice,” he rambles, now unable to shut up for all his reluctance, but it doesn’t faze John. He just listens, corners of his mouth quirking up here and there.

“I’m glad. Roxy was worried you got car sick at one point and you just weren’t saying anything.”

“Oh. Oh, uh, no, I was fine. I was just... taking it all in.”

“I figured.” Dirk pauses at that, quirking a brow again and John notices and rubs the back of his neck. “You get like that when you’re interested in something. You talk a lot until you find stuff you’ve never encountered before, and then you like to quietly learn as much about it as you can through research and observation and stuff. It’s admirable, really, haha.”

Oh.

_Admirable._

Dirk tries to fight the burning flush he knows is coming. Jesus, John is hell-bent on killing him, tonight, isn't he?

“I... don’t know about all that.”

“It’s pretty obvious, though?” Dirk hasn’t heard anything like that before from anyone else, so he doubts it, but keeps his mouth shut, lest something else gets said that does, actually, send him to an early grave.

John keeps him awake another hour or so with idle chatter – he asks about how he’s been, about his recent projects, about his work. It’s... nice. It goes much more smoothly than Dirk thought it was going to – probably because John hasn’t really touched upon the massive fucking elephant in the room, yet, so he hasn’t had to initiate self-destruct. So, for now, the easygoingness of it all makes him feel a little better. Not by much, really, but... John just looks so genuine, as he asks and talks, and laughs. It doesn’t seem like he’s forcing himself, at all. He's acting like it’s fine. 

Dirk starts thinking, for the first time in weeks, that maybe he won’t have to face any of it. That maybe it _is_ fine _._ When they both finally decide to get some shuteye, he keeps himself awake even longer trying to convince himself that this is true.

* * *

The next morning is uneventful. Dirk and John sleep in a little later than they agreed they were going to, and when they wake up it’s to Roxy throwing herself along them, urging them to get up. Dirk is the last out of bed, and he’s cooed at and poked and prodded incessantly. Entreated to _rise n’ shine, clementine!_ The rest of the morning is a blur for him – he is by no means a morning person, and his main priority is getting Roxy and John off his case so he can take a nap in the car.

Delectably free hotel breakfast beckons them to stay a little longer before they hit the road again, and Dirk grabs a muffin for the ride after eating two whole waffles and taking turns stealing fruit off of John’s plate with Roxy when he’s not looking. For their valiant efforts, they gain a few very skeptical looks and then a couple grapes to the face each.

Worth it.

While Roxy situates how to get back on their planned route by talking to the morning receptionist, Dirk and John make their way out to the car. It’s cool and drizzling outside, which is nice, if only for a bit. Grabbing a pillow and blanket from the trunk, Dirk tries to take the backseat for his nap. As he’s preparing to lay it all out along the stretch of leather, John opens the opposite backseat door to join him. Dirk’s incredulous.

“What are you doing?”

John quirks a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I’m gonna nap back here? I thought I said that.”

“You did. Can I not sit back here, too? I like it better than up front.” Dirk frowns. John gets in, anyways.

“How am I supposed to lay down all the way when you’re back here?” John grins and pats his thighs like it's nothing, raising his eyebrows.

“You can use my lap if it bothers you that much.” Dirk flushes. _Fuck no._

“No. No, thanks. I'm good.” John just shrugs and turns to buckle himself into the seat. Stubborn asshole.

“Suit yourself, dude!” he says nonchalantly, and it frustrates the fire out of Dirk. What a jerk. And here he’d thought they were starting to get along again.

He tries to make himself as comfortable as he can against the door nearest to his seat, but it’s not ideal, and he makes sure to grumble as much. John only chuckles at him, and he has half a mind to lay into him when he’s interrupted by the opening of a car door. When Roxy gets in, after sticking the keys into the ignition and starting the car, she turns to raise an eyebrow at them.

“Oh, so I’m _really_ y’alls chauffeur now, huh?” John gives him a shit-eating grin before giving Roxy a much more innocent one.

“Blame Dirk, he’s the one who doesn’t want to sit next to you. Said so himself!” Dirk blinks uncomprehendingly and then scrunches up his face at him with distaste.

“Excuse me?” Roxy laughs and begins to drive.

“If Johnboy’s saying it, it must be true. How dare you, Di-Stri? I’m wounded! So, _so_ wounded!” Dirk just sighs tiredly and waves them off as they continue to playfully throw accusations his way and openly gossip about him.

“You guys are ridiculous. I’m going to sleep,” he says, nestling his head into his pillow. “Wake me when it’s time for lunch.”

“Le gasp! The audacity. He doesn’t love us, he only cares about food and sleep...”

“Truly hurtful, Dirk!”

He flips them off and closes his eyes and waits for sleep to come.

And he waits.

And he waits.

It doesn’t come, though it tries its damned hardest. He’s come so close a few times but some sudden jolt or ache or need to shift interrupted each one of them. Everything about his position that was previously mildly uncomfortable has become unbearable within the past thirty minutes, and Dirk’s arm, neck, and side, are all beginning to ache and go numb. He shifts restlessly and then sighs, eyes pulling open tiredly. Yeah... this isn’t going to work.

“Up again already, sunshine?” John asks, looking confused. Dirk’s so out of it that he doesn’t even really register the pet name.

“Mnh,” he mumbles incoherently in response, pulling himself upright as best as he can and rubbing uncomfortably at an eye beneath his shades. Roxy coos at him from up front, eyeing him sympathetically through the rearview mirror.

“Hey there. C’mere,” John beckons, and, as Dirk struggles to keep his eyes open, he listens. John removes his shades and runs his fingers through his hair a few times. It feels so nice and Dirk lets his eyes slide closed, lets John move him around until he only feels good and comfortable, arms wrapped around something warm.

He’s out in moments.

* * *

When he’s woken a few hours later, it’s to the groggy comfort of a hand in his hair, which is immediately followed by babbling embarrassment and mortification. He didn’t mean to, he says, over and over again. He was so, so tired. He had no idea what he was even doing. But John just says it’s fine each time.

The rest of the second day follows much the same routine as the first. Dirk is mesmerized by the scenery – so unmarred by human life but in a different way than he’s used to – and he stays glued to the window for most of the drive while John and Roxy sing along to music at the top of their lungs with the windows down.

Dirk can’t get over how surreal it is.

All the green and yellow amplified by the bright rays coming from the sun - but not blinding, as he's noticed it is in its reflection off of water. Just... filtering softly through leafy trees and grass and falling along rough brown bark. It all passes by in a beautiful blur that sometimes falls into lapses of clarity if he makes an effort to notice them.

 _It’s so easy to breathe like this,_ he thinks to himself, not for the first time since arriving on Earth C.

* * *

When the sun begins to set, Roxy pulls the car off onto the side of the road, and Dirk starts getting excited, though he tries not to show it. They’re going to _camp_ out here. He’s going to get to be amongst all the nature he's seen; he doesn’t have to just watch it pass by without being able to experience it.

Some part of him wishes in vain that they would have done this sooner.

The first half hour is spent getting everything ready and setting things up; Dirk and John are tasked with finding a good, dry spot to start a fire as well as gathering tinder, kindling, and wood fuel. Roxy busies herself getting the canned food and cookware ready to use as well as setting up the back of the van with their sleeping bags and blankets and pillows.

When he and John have everything set up for the fire, Dirk takes a lighter out of his pocket, but John stops him with an unimpressed look.

Dirk raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Seriously, a lighter? C’mon, Dirk. We’re _camping._ ”

Dirk snorts. “Uh, yeah. And? Why does it matter how the fire gets started so long's it does?” John’s indignant.

“It’s about the _experience!”_ he insists with bulging eyes, like Dirk's said something insane, and he rolls his eyes.

“Fine, whatever. How are we gonna get it going, then?” At this, John beckons him down to crouch over the setup like he is, and then he gets to work. Dirk teases him.

“Didn’t take you for the outdoorsy type. Outside of your aspect, that is.” Dirk means it lightly, but the expression on John’s face is wry.

“... I'm not, really. But I was a Boy Scout.”

“Boy Scout?”

“Oh, yeah. Uh, it was this group for boys that involved learning a whole bunch of active ‘life skills’ or whatever. We tied knots, learned how to camp and make fires. Stuff sorta like that. Anyways, dad made me join. He used to take me camping a lot, too.”

John goes quiet. Dirk doesn’t know what to say. John’s never really talked about _his_ dad – not so openly as this, anyways. He knows Jane’s dad is similar, if not almost exactly the same, but... Dirk knows it’s different. Like how he himself gets to talk and hang out with Dave, who is supposedly the kid version of the brother he grew up idolizing. Dirk knew everything there was to know about him but he was never able to actually interact with him, and Dave is so, so different than that mental image of him that Dirk had held onto for dear life. 

“That must have been nice,” he says, fumbling. John doesn’t look up from where the firewood has begun stirring, hot, an ember forming.

“... Yeah. Must have been.” His answer confuses Dirk, but before he can open his mouth to question him further, John’s smiling brightly, voice exclamative.

“See? Would you look at that!”

The fire is coming alive, blooming and burning, and John asks him to hand him wood fuel as he tries to keep it going. Dirk’s voice gets snuffed out inside of him as the fire gets stoked.

After dinner, John, Roxy, and Dirk settle down for the night, taking turns pointing out stupid star patterns.

“That’s _definitely_ a dick.”

“Whoever made the constellations of this Universe must have been _supes_ gay.” Both heads turn to look at Dirk very pointedly, and he shrugs.

“What can I say? Actions speak louder than words. Besides, y’all had a hand in it, too. Don’t play straight.” Dirk wishes he would have bit his tongue here, considering who he’s laying right next to, but John just laughs, and Roxy points out a star set that looks like cat ears, and that’s the end of it.

It bothers him more than he thinks it should.

* * *

Dirk tosses and turns. He can’t fall asleep. It’s only _partly_ because he’s sandwiched between Roxy and John, who’ve both decided to make him their personal body pillow. In fact, it isn’t that, at all. Not _really._ It’s warm and comfortable against the chill of the cool nighttime air, actually, and he doesn’t want to leave it, but... his head won’t shut up.

It never does, really.

But it’s louder tonight, beneath the stars. It refuses to be ignored, and yet that’s the only thing he wants to do, and so they have reached an uncomfortable stalemate.

Restlessness and the need to just... be _moving_ has Dirk extricating himself from soft and gangly limbs. He tries his best not to wake them, and when he slides down from the edge of the trunk and looks back to see that no eyes have opened, he feels satisfied that he's been successful.

He shivers.

It’s early late October, or something like that, probably. He can see his breath when he exhales, pale and wispy in the filtered moonlight as it escapes him and he begins to walk, the soles of his shoes crunching on leaves and grass.

It’s quiet, but in a different way than what Dirk knows. In a way that has kept him up many a night, here, in this place. On Earth C, quiet is not _actually_ quiet. It’s full of life. Insects chirping, leaves rustling, cars whirring down roads, the bustle of nightlife.

On _his_ Earth, quiet was still not _actually_ quiet, but consisted of different elements. Quiet was dead and empty. Quiet was the ocean. Quiet was the buzzing of machines and the scraping and crashing noises of drones right outside of his window. But it was _his_ quiet. He had learned to tune it out, if he wanted rest, in a way that he hasn’t been able to do with the incessant sounds here, yet.

Dirk thinks it could be argued that the concept of quiet itself does not actually exist.

_“Dirk?”_

He jumps out of his skin, whipping around, eyes wide.

John stands there, rubbing an eye, frowning, hair a mess.

“Why are you up?” Dirk’s heart is pounding as he lets out a shaky exhale.

“Jesus, Egbert. You scared the shit outta me.”

“Haha, sorry. But... what are you doing?” he asks again. As he wills himself to calm down, Dirk looks up at the moon and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants.

“Takin’ a walk. Couldn’t sleep. Sorry if I woke you.” John shakes his head, walking over to join him.

“No, it’s okay. I woke up on my own. What’s up, why can’t you sleep?” Dirk purses his lips. Does he really want to talk to him about this? He doesn't even really know that there's much to say. He doesn't even know if John even _wants_ him to say it. He could just be asking out of the obligation that comes with discovery. But...

Dirk starts walking again, and John follows. “... It’s loud out here. Really loud.” John tilts his head.

“Like... do you mean the cicadas?” Dirk shrugs.

“Sorta.” There’s a beat of silence and John does a funny thing with his mouth.

“... You sure that’s it, dude?”

They’ve reached a part of the clearing by the side of the road where the trees part and the moon can be seen straight on. Dirk descends, laying down on the grass, stretching his arms out. He doesn't beckon for John to join him, but he does, anyways, and it gives Dirk the strength to continue.

“... Earth C is weird,” he confesses. John looks over at him, and Dirk looks back. Slowly, John opens his mouth.

“I mean... well, yeah. But. What do you mean?”

“... Sometimes I think I wish we didn’t win the game. Is that fucked up?”

“... I don’t think so. Sometimes I think that way, too. But, then again, maybe it is, and I just don't know. Maybe we’re both fucked up.”

“... Mm.”

“I think it’s okay, though. Like... I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, you know? And. I miss my dad. When the game was still going on, he was alive, or could be, through dream bubbles and stuff. Now that we've won it, he’s not alive at all. And I'm not completely sure, but I don't even think he _can_ be. I don’t think it makes me a bad person for wishing he was still here, or that that was still possible. But, I guess if that’s the case, it'd be more accurate for me to say that I wish we just never started playing to begin with. I think about it a lot."

The silence that follows is comfortable. An appropriately placed period. Not strained. Not expectant. Just conversational. As if they're discussing the weather.

“... What if I don’t have a reason like that? What if... I miss the game itself.”

“...”

“What if I miss being important?”

“You _are_ important, Dirk.” Something hot blooms in his chest.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You do a lot, y’know. You’re important to everyone. To Roxy. To _me._ You’re important.”

“...”

Nothing gets resolved, really. But Dirk’s mind stops screaming at him. Just a little. Just enough for him to feel like he can fall asleep. And when they make their way back to the car, Dirk thinks that he’s missed this.

That he’s missed _him._

But he can’t tell him that. Not anymore. Not when he’s already ruined it all and John’s just nice enough to be civil and act like it didn't happen and he cares because he has to. Because they have history of him doing so, because Roxy’s here and because Dirk’s her best friend.

He wishes John didn’t come with them.

He wishes he didn’t have to deal with these feelings.

He wishes he could reach out and hold his hand. Touch him. Be touched back.

But he doesn’t dare.

The trip continues and Dirk gets more and more restless with every night that passes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> additionally, in another timeline and universe: 
> 
> dirk takes one look at theo and says, huskily, "omai wa, mo shindeiru?"
> 
> theo turns to him, eyes smouldering. "nani?"
> 
> and then they fuck and it's insanely hot holy shit


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering where the content for all those nsfw tags was...
> 
> ;)

Dirk can’t sleep.

Not like this.

Not with John _right fucking next to him,_ radiating heat relentlessly like a goddamn furnace when the room itself is already hot as fuck since the air conditioner at this particular motel is out.

Dirk has been fine in this regard since this trip started. Just fine. There were a few close calls, of course – to be expected when they’ve been sharing a bed at almost every single fuckin’ place they’ve stayed at and John has a way of making him feel like he’s going to combust every time he touches him or makes a particularly mischievous face without even being fucking _aware_ of it (which should be illegal, in Dirk’s opinion) – but it was never _this bad._

It frustrates Dirk. It frustrates him that it’s happening. It frustrates him that he can’t turn it off or will it away. It frustrates him that John is so blissfully unaware of the hell he’s currently causing him.

Dirk looks over at him, eyebrows furrowed. Long eyelashes fluttering against moonlit skin, breath stuttering softly. Stupidly and ignorantly asleep and looking all the more infuriatingly attractive for it. How is he so fucking _built?_ Dirk never noticed it before Earth C. He never noticed the pull of muscles just beneath his pretty golden skin, concentrated along his arms. He never noticed the strong line of his jaw. He never noticed that subtle, subtle, and yet all too strong scent; masculine and heavy with vanilla undertones. Now that he has made that mistake, he can’t get any of it out of his head – he can’t stop noticing, can’t stop staring, can’t stop breathing it in, can’t stop wanting to reach for him. It’s the reason he’s like this in the first place. It’s intoxicating. Poisonous, and his body is aching for a cure he knows he can’t have. Dirk’s going to die.

_He’s going to die._

So, as he slips a hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, heart pounding mortifyingly hard in his chest, he tells himself it doesn’t matter – that he can’t help it anymore. His eyes flutter shut as he traces and circles his fingers lightly downwards along tingling, eager skin, skimming over the trail of hair they find along the way. He’s burning. It’s so suffocatingly hot underneath the blanket, and it only gets worse when he finally wraps a hand around himself where he’s been aching for the past hour, sucking in a catching breath. He bites his lip harshly; it’s all he can do to keep himself from letting a desperate moan escape his throat, or fucking up violently into his hand.

Dirk wants him.

He wants him _so_ badly.

He shouldn’t. Not with the way he looks at her – so different from the way he looks at him. And after everything that happened that night? He knows there’s no chance. And yet he yearns anyways, endlessly, totally, desperately. Unable to stop. Dangerously consumed with him.

Desire turns his insides to liquid, molten magma, and he flushes with the feeling of it, a soft groan accidentally slipping out along the weighted wetness of his tongue. He only burns more brightly for it and the dangerous thoughts that cause the ache that pools deep within his abdomen ripple through him more forcefully. _It’s probably fine,_ he thinks distantly, small in the back of his mind, which prompts him to look over, just to confirm his hazy suspicions. Eyes still closed, breath still even. He’s safe.

But now he can’t stop staring again.

Dirk thinks about what it would be like if that skin were flushed with a sheen of sweat. If his breath stuttered with pleasure instead of from a hazy dream he won’t evenremember in the morning. His thumb catches along a ridge on the underside of his throbbing cock and he stifles a whine in the back of his throat, lungs shakily sucking in air he didn’t know he needed until he found himself dizzy despite lying down.

The friction of his hand is... it’s not enough. Not _nearly_ fucking enough. _More, faster, tighter,_ his mind chants, broken as he works his hand roughly over himself, choking on the words he knows he can’t say aloud. His skin is beginning to burn. But he can’t stop.

He thinks about John’s arm, heavy around his shoulders. The smiling look in his eyes, always seemingly conspiring. The way they darken when he gets serious. When he thinks no one’s really looking.

The way his fingers felt in his hair the other day, so good, even hazy as the sensation is in his mind. He brings his free hand up to lightly scratch his fingers against his scalp the same way John did – but it’s too fucking different. It doesn’t help. It makes the ache inside of him worse, so he drops them to his mouth instead and slips them inside, letting them fall, hot and heavy, along his tongue, gliding, and _fuck._

He’s so hot, so, _so hot,_ burning up alive _just next to him,_ wanting to reach out so fuckin’ _bad_ but he can’t so he just has to look and look and _look_ and it’s _torture._

_Shit._

His eyes fall to John's lips and he thinks about how fuckin’ soft they are, what it would feel like to have his tongue in his mouth, _oh god,_ his hands on his body, his hands on his _pulsing, raw, needy-_

_Fuck!_

Dirk clamps his hand flush to his mouth to physically hold back a choked sob. He’s so fucking close, _so close,_ and it’s so fucking _painful_ and yet so fucking _gooood,_ and yet he _still_ can’t come because it’s _not fucking enough._

He needs _him._

And he can’t fucking have him.

And it _hurts._

Everything hurts and it’s good and it’s bad and he’s trembling and his eyes are burning and he can’t help it when his lips fall apart beneath his filthy, spit-slicked fingers and his hot breath fans against them as he whines lowly, unable to think to stop himself.

 _“John! Fuck...”_ he exhales _hard_ and whimpers and spills into his hand and on his stomach. He wrings it all out until he’s oversensitive and it becomes too painful to keep moving his hand and his head is throbbing.

It’s another few minutes of closed eyes to the mental tune of the kind of somber blissful high he’s come to know all too well until dread pools deep within him and he snaps them open, whipping his head to the side with a heart that’s beating faster than the wings of a goddamn hummingbird. He made a mistake. He was too out of it, too loud, there’s no way John – hell, maybe even _Roxy_ – didn’t hear-

But John looks as peacefully asleep as ever. Motherfucker hasn’t even moved. Dirk doesn’t quite understand the resentment that comes up to choke the relief out of him upon realizing this, and he’s not sure he wants to.

With the haze of his orgasm now completely dissolved, he sucks in a breath.

He’s sticky and it’s drying fast and his dick is stinging and, well. That’s what he gets for being too horny to get up and go to the bathroom – or to even just use his own goddamn spit to keep from chafing himself, because _damn_ is that gonna bite tomorrow.

 _Fucking idiot,_ he curses to himself, disgust at himself wrenching into his gut. He very slowly and quietly gets up to clean himself up and assess the damage before slipping back into bed and falling into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

A couple of nights pass and nothing changes, despite Dirk’s concerns. There are a few times Dirk thinks that maybe John is avoiding his gaze a little too much, smiling a little too brightly, or getting a little too jumpy around him. But it’s all so quick – there and gone in an instant – that he just has to pass it off as his own paranoid suspicion, jumping to conclusions with insubstantial evidence.

It’s morning. Early. Stretching from his spot in the back of the trunk, once again sandwiched between Roxy and John, Dirk guiltily thinks to himself that he’s glad their trip is almost at its end, truthfully. It’s not that it hasn’t been enjoyable. On the contrary, this is, maybe, the first time since he’s been here that he’s felt so “at home” and allowed himself to relax so much. But... that’s just it. He doesn’t want it to end. Doesn’t want to feel tense again, doesn’t want to have to have to insert himself back into the routine of work he’d abandoned for this trip at Roxy’s urging, doesn’t want to go back to not speaking with John. But he knows that it will. This trip has an expiration date, and the sooner it comes, the sooner he can get it all over with and throw it all out.

A yawn coming from next to him brings him out of his stupor.

“Hey... You’re up early today, Di-Stri...” Roxy mumbles, rubbing her eyes. Her hair is a mess of a glowing halo in the morning sun. He smiles and musses it further.

“Yeah. Hey there. You hungry?” He asks.

“Mhm!” Her response is enthusiastic, and the two of them carefully move to get breakfast around John, who remains asleep for another good fifteen minutes. When he wakes they humor themselves by attempting to convince him they’d eaten everything and that he’ll just have to go forage in the nearby woods for food. He is not amused and is told by Roxy that his pouting is adorable, upon which he becomes even further displeased and Dirk’s heart twists into his stomach.

The drive is as nice as it has been since the trip started – it’s cloudy and - thirty minutes in, when it starts drizzling - Dirk accidentally dozes off. When he wakes it is to incessant giggling, and every attempt to question either John or Roxy as to what is funny only sends them into more laughter. His frustrated suspicion continues to build until he catches sight of his face in the passenger’s side mirror and horror strikes. He scrambles to pull down the sun visor to more clearly see the crime that has been committed against him. His face is covered in various idiotic and childish insults and poorly drawn dicks.

 _I_ _n_ _permanent fucking marker._

Dirk’s going to kill him. His dead-panned expression only makes the two of them laugh harder – Roxy sounds like she’s crying – and in the next second Dirk is unbuckling his seatbelt and lunging into the backseat at the culprit, who yelps when Dirk digs his hands into sides that he knows to be _very_ ticklish.

He gets his revenge. The only con is that he's stuck in the back with him, now, because apparently climbing back up front is “very dangerous!!” and “distracting!!”

Cowards. What's a little carkour?

They reach a rest stop towards the afternoon where Dirk is able to scrub his face of the evidence of John’s transgressions as best as he can, but the receptionist at the hotel they pull up to for the night still has to do a double take when she sees him and clearly needs to work on strengthening her skills in professionalism, considering the poor way she conceals her tittering. 

The room they’re shown to is... well. Not exactly just a “room.” It’s probably the nicest place they’ve been to yet – there’s a kitchen, a living room, a dining table, a laundry room, two bedrooms and – it’s a goddamn fucking condo. Straight up.

They spend some time marveling over this before getting ready for bed – an easier feat considering that there’s two bathrooms, both with a glorious fucking shower. Afterwards, they talk casually in the living room about many things. The game, Earth C, their work, this trip. Roxy eventually stands during a lapse in the conversation, stretching.

A casual grin pulls along her mouth. “Well, boyos, this gal’s gonna get her shower on steal some z's.”

Dirk’s somewhat disappointed to hear this, since it’s still kind of early and the conversation was flowing nicely and he’s... for some reason, anxious. Jittery. He doesn’t want her to leave. Not yet. He wants to tell her this, ask her to stay up.

“Sweet dreams, Ro-Lal,” he says instead.

“Good night!” And then as soon as she’s gone, disappeared into one of the bedrooms with the door closed behind her, he realizes what’s eating at him.

He’ll be in a room alone with John tonight.

 _Oh no you don’t,_ he says to the flutter that creeps up into his chest from his stomach and he shudders it away.

“... Wanna watch a movie? Our room’s got a TV and... I don’t know about you, but I don’t really feel like sleeping, yet.” John asks, breaking the silence between them, looking a little too sheepish for the nature of his question. The nighttime light from the moon washes along his face making his eyes even brighter, even bluer, and Dirk has to force himself to tear his eyes away.

“Sure. I don’t, either,” he says, unthinking.

But he should have said no.

This is probably the _worst_ possible way they could have chosen to spend the rest of the waking night, Dirk thinks.

It’s in the warmth of the room – almost a little too stifling – grounding him on the pulling dip of the cotton spread across the mattress, relentlessly reminding him of the other night. It’s in the way that Dirk doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, the restlessness from earlier amplified tenfold. Hands resting on his stomach. Arms crossed. Uncrossed. Fingers falling to the bed below, startled when they find warm skin, nervously jumping back up to the safety of his own body, his own private territory. It’s in the fact that their shoulders have been touching for approximately seven minutes and thirty-two seconds and that – although they both flinched, initially – neither of them have dared to pull away yet. Because to pull away is to alert to notice.

“Are you even paying attention?” His voice is higher, whinier than usual, and Dirk swallows to it, something hot and constricted in the back of his throat.

He can’t do this, holy shit.

He thought he could do this. “Of course I am,” he replies, “What makes you think otherwise?”

“You’re all... fidgety! It’s distracting.”

“... Then aren’t _you_ the one not paying attention? Haha, damn Egbert, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you had the hots for me,” Dirk says. He says it because he’s stupid and likes to suffer, likes to internally scream and thrash and slice himself to pieces over not thinking before speaking, not having a filter, not wondering how his words will be perceived given his situation.

John is silent for just too long of a pause and it has Dirk panicking because _no, no, no,_ he can see it all coming down in front of him and his heart rate is accelerating and he does _not_ want to be having this conversation. Not right now, not like this. He’d been doing so good staying away from the topic until now! He can’t fuck things up, yet. Not again, not so soon.

“Sorry. Forget that. I was joking. It was a joke,” Dirk breathes out, too quickly. He swallows, and it’s loud in his ears. Deafeningly, so. The atmosphere of the room has changed so suddenly – thick and heavy and constricting – and he can’t even _look_ over at John, but he can _feel_ the burning melt of his eyes staring a hole into him. He shivers. _No, no, no._

“... _You’re_ the one who kissed _me,_ you know.” _No-_

“John.” A warning.

“Dirk. C’mon.” A warm palm drops weightily to cover his hand. _Unbearably_ warm. He tries to snatch it away, but John won’t let him, and a noise escapes his throat. _No, no, no._ “We need to talk about this. Look at me.”

He doesn’t want to, but something possesses him, and he does. So, so slowly.

When did he start shaking?

John’s eyes are scalding ice. “ _You’re_ the one who kissed _me,”_ he repeats. “And then _you_ ran away.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. You’re the one who... No, it was a mistake. I told you. I was stupid. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“But you did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You _did.”_

“You don’t know that.”

“But I do. I heard you.”

Dirk’s blood rushes icily in his veins.

His heart pumps too slowly and too quickly and he can’t breathe.

“... What?”

“I heard you,” he repeats, “the other night. I _heard_ you. That wasn’t his name. It was mine.” He _can’t_ breathe. _“Mine.”_

“... No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t.”

“It was.” It _definitely_ was. And against every fucking coherent line of logic, Dirk is harder right now than he has been in, maybe, his entire life, and he’s mortified. Every part of him is hot and burning and throbbing and shivering and John hasn’t even - when did his hand move from Dirk’s to his thigh?

His fingers slide up, dragging, catching on the hem and creased fabric of his boxers and it’s so _achingly_ slow but already feels _amazing_ and holy shit, holy fuck, he didn’t know being touched by him could be this _good_ and his breath is caught in his throat and _fuck-_

“Look at me,” he says, for the second time. But Dirk can’t. He can’t, he can’t, _he can’t,_ he’s scared, choking with uncertainty and denial and _stupid, stupid_ hope that he has no right to and- “Dirk.” His other hand has come up to cup his cheek, and he’s forced to meet his eyes. What he sees there floors him: his own thoughts and feelings reflected back at him, clear as day.

“Tell me it was? Please?”

Dirk swallows around his confusion. He must be hallucinating. John wouldn’t look at him like that. _He wouldn’t._ He’s straight, into Roxy, he didn’t kiss back-

“... It... It was,” Dirk’s voice is quivering as he whispers. John lets out a shaky exhale, almost laughing as he runs a hand through his hair.

“God, okay! Thought I was going crazy. Good. Great. Fantastic,” and then he crushes his lips to Dirk’s.

The kiss Dirk had given him a month ago had been _nothing_ like this one.

It was so much softer.

John had invited him over to play video games, as usual, and Dirk had been on a winning streak that was making John so endearingly frustrated until he finally, _finally_ scored one on him. And the look on his face... Dirk had already had a small crush on him before then, but. He had tried playing it down, playing it cool. He had tried not giving it much thought. He had heard the rumors that seemed like common knowledge from their friends. John was straight as a goddamn arrow and, well. There was everything that happened with Jake, too – Jake, who John looks very similar to, so. He didn’t think it was a particularly great idea to step on that landmine, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how tentatively he thought he could tread. But, but, but.

That beaming grin. Shining, smiling, genuine eyes. John had just looked... so fucking _happy_ , in that moment _._ It was stupid. Ridiculous. Over a goddamn shitty _game,_ for fuck’s sake. And it suited him.

He’d calmed down and noticed that Dirk was staring, and his expression went soft, so soft, but the smile was still there, and it made him look so warm and inviting and he said his name so nicely when he asked what was wrong and Dirk just... he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to steal that smile and make it his own, somehow. He got too greedy. John didn’t kiss back. Dirk, with horror, had realized too late what he was doing. And then, muttering about mistakes and giving excuses, he ran away.

It’s reversed, now.

John is the greedy one, and Dirk can’t escape. He swallows Dirk’s moans like they were made for him to consume and Dirk feels like he can’t catch a breath – like doesn’t even _want_ to. John bites his lip and delves his tongue to slide hot against Dirk’s before licking up to the roof of his mouth, and Dirk _shudders_ with the sensation, panting into it. It is everything that it wasn’t that last time, and more.

Hands roam wherever they can find him; up his chest to thumb and press at his nipples, along his sides to feel shivering, raised skin. They push underneath his clothing insistently, as though it offends him by just fucking existing.

The thought of John wanting him so _much,_ so _badly,_ makes Dirk so embarrassingly turned on that he can’t help it when he keens and grinds up onto John’s thigh because he just needs _some_ kind of relief - otherwise he’s absolutely _sure_ he might die. He feels John’s own erection against him through the action and _holy fuck_ that’s just _not fucking fair._ John groans and his mouth moves away from Dirk’s and it makes him shiver with loss and chase after him to fill the needy emptiness but then he realizes that it’s just to get Dirk’s t-shirt off of him and _oh._

_Oh god, oh fuck yes._

As soon as it’s gone, lost in some forgotten corner of the room, his head dips down to lick and suck and bite into Dirk’s skin – all over his neck, just below his collarbones, the oversensitive flesh of his nipples, down, down, down, and Dirk is _shaking_ when John looks up at him, breathless, hair a fucking mess from where Dirk’s hands have found it, tugging and pulling and guiding.

Jesus fucking _christ._

His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, mouth kiss-swollen and shining and god, it’s all for him. It’s not Roxy he’s looking at right now. It’s Dirk. Only Dirk. That both excites and scares him, the fog of desire clearing just long enough for the nervous thoughts to set in, and John dips his fingers into Dirk’s waistband, grabbing, pulling and-

“Wait, John, _wait,”_ Dirk breathes out, tongue darting out to wet his lips, stilling him with a hand on his, “how far... where are we going with this?” John just presses a tender kiss to the inside of his thigh. Settles a palm over where Dirk strains, already leaking enough for there to be a spot of heady dampness soaking through. He sucks in a sharp breath to keep from groaning.

“Anywhere you want to go,” John sighs out, and it’s unhelpful. _So_ unhelpful. Because now Dirk can’t think again and John’s pulling at his boxers again, shaking his hand off, and well, coherent thought is gone when he feels cold air hit him.

John whispers in awe about how excited he is, about how _good_ he looks, and he makes eye contact with Dirk and it’s so intimate, too intimate, he’s not used to it though he’s wanted it so badly and imagines it so many times, and he’s already _so fucking hard_ and if John says one more word he might make a goddamn mess of himself even more than he already has. So, he hisses that if John’s gonna do something, he better get on it within the next year or he might _actually_ die.

John just grins at him, eyes smiling with amusement as he lays a stupidly tender kiss to the head of his weeping cock that sends a delicious shiver up along Dirk’s spine, whispering that he won’t have him dying on him. Dirk’s about to snap when John _finally_ wraps a hand around him, using his smeared pre and some spit as makeshift lube, and Dirk sighs a moan out, hands finding purchase along his shoulders. It’s already so much fucking _better_ than having to do it himself.

“Eager, are we?”

“Shut _up,_ John, I swear to _god,”_

But he doesn’t. He keeps talking, keeps whispering, keeps groaning, right into his ear, and every word, every sound, every breath, rushes straight to his dick. It’s especially when Dirk urges him to pull himself out, too, and line their cocks up so that Dirk can wrap hands around both of them and _squeeze,_ wringing out a particularly desperate noise from the back of John’s throat, pretty lashes fluttering shut as his eyes roll back, that Dirk thinks that he’s fucking done for.

They don’t last long. Every stroke is desperate, every kiss stolen amidst endless panting and groaning, and it’s a rushed, messy affair. Full of every single moment of tension between them, full of all of the words they never said to each other, full of the words they still want so badly to say but find stuck in the backs of their throats, lodged and unmoving. _Next time,_ Dirk thinks, shattered, as he and John bring themselves closer and closer to that crest they’re desperately searching for. _Next time,_ they can go slower. _Next time,_ they can explore each other’s scarred bodies the way they want to. The way they deserve.

John’s breath stutters out in a groan as he shoots off, head falling to Dirk’s shoulder, body shaking with the sensation and the tension in his muscles. Dirk comes soon after, hot and thick, fingers of one hand digging into the skin of John’s back as he tries his damn hardest not to shout.

As they come down, breathing heavily into each other’s space, Dirk’s eyes slowly open to see that John’s looking at him, and his heart lurches in his chest. The anxiety comes back full force with realization, and there’s tens of thousands of voices in his head, all breathing down his neck, all uncertain, all arguing.

“I’m-” John presses a finger to his lips, eyebrows furrowing darkly.

“Dirk, don’t you even _think_ of apologizing again! I’ll lose it. I will.”

So, he doesn’t. He bites back the torrent of insecure words as hard as he can, avoiding eye contact lest the slightest fracture be delivered and the dam that he is break. Tense silence fills the air between them before John sighs, taking pity on him. He gather’s Dirk’s face up in his hands, pressing his lips to his forehead – a gesture so tender it sends a shiver down his spine.

“What is it?” He asks.

“... I thought you hated me. I thought you’d never want to see or talk to me again.”

“... Dirk.”

“I thought I fucked everything up again.”

 _“Dirk.”_ He’s frowning again. Dirk’s least favorite of his expressions. “I never hated you. I didn’t. But... you just. You just kinda kissed me and then immediately got up and said all that stuff about it being a mistake because I was too similar to Jake! And then you left and I didn’t even... really get a chance to say anything? Or even think about any of it? So, I was kinda stunned for a little while, dude. And then I just... realized that it kind of hurt? Or – not kind of. It hurt _a lot._ And that didn’t really make sense to me at the time because I mean. I hadn’t given sexuality a _ton_ of thought before then but I really just always kinda assumed I was straight and you... Everything about you and what happened confused me. I needed time.” Dirk lowers his head, shame and guilt simultaneously burning him alive and drowning him.

“I know you just said not to apologize, but... I-”

“And I meant it! So, shut up. And, anyways, if you hadn’t done it, I would have never thought of it. Never questioned it. Never realized.” Dirk’s heart is beating too fast.

“... Realized what?”

“Oh man. You’re really gonna make me say it?” John’s face is flushed, and Dirk doesn’t think it’s all from sexual exertion.

“Uh... I hate to break it to you, but I can’t read your mind, bro.”

“Bluh, obviously! I just... you know. I realized... jeez. Uh... like, that spending time with you was cool. And that you’re a nerd. But... a good nerd. It’s cute. You’re cute. And I don’t wanna stop spending time with you or calling you a nerd or pranking you or just... yeah. And...” Dirk is already embarrassingly warm, but he only heats up further when John brushes his fingers along his jaw, voice lowering to a mumble, “I wanna kiss you. And hold you. And... more. Obviously, haha. Um, yeah. That’s what I realized.”

Dirk can’t speak. He doesn’t really know what to say. What does someone say to that? How does he respond in kind? He’s never had to do it before, so he fumbles, and just presses his lips to John’s. Much like the first time, this kiss is soft. But this time John meets him halfway.

When he pulls away, it’s to exhale shakily.

“Yeah, okay, that. Me, too.”

John smiles, and now it really does belong to Dirk. He kisses him again for good measure.

* * *

“... OMG, John, you crazy bastard, you actually did it, didn’t you? Is it official?!” Roxy squeals, looking excitedly back and forth from John and Dirk as soon as she pads into the living room with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and gets a good look at the both of them.

Dirk nearly spits his morning coffee out, eyes big and round and disbelieving. 

John coughs around eggs, face turning crimson.

“Um. Roxy. What now?” Dirk asks, completely and utterly confused, because _how the fuck does she know?_ He thought he checked for hickeys. Maybe the walls were too thin? But John is quick to recover. He jumps up and runs over to cover her mouth, grin big but nervous.

“Nope, nothing! She means _nothing.”_

“She definitely means something,” Dirk says, narrowing his eyes with suspicion, crossing his arms. Roxy breaks free to confirm as much.

“Ahhh, yes! Thank god! Fucking _finally!”_

It’s here that Dirk discovers that Roxy didn’t “just happen” to run into John before their trip. He caught her and asked her if he could tag along. Roxy had been wary – she knew vaguely what had happened between the two of them and part of the whole point of the trip was to help Dirk get away from his suffocating headspace, let him let go a little and get his mind off of, well. Everything.

At that point John knew he’d have to fess up as to what his intentions were if he wanted Roxy to let him come along. After she knew, she was, of course, _much_ more willing to oblige. She has also been playfully tormenting him endlessly this whole time – threatening to tell Dirk if he himself didn’t hurry and do it.

As they talk and explain, suddenly many, many things begin to make sense to Dirk.

Roxy doesn’t let up on the teasing until they're back in town (and even then, really, who is Dirk kidding), but that’s to be expected - and it’s fine because now he can allow himself to sit in the backseat with John right next to him the whole time, conscience free. With John’s hand clasped in his own, even when a fearful thought or two threaten to bubble up, they melt away an instant later, anyways.

The road trip is almost at its end, and Dirk thinks to himself that he’s glad that it is, truthfully. It _has_ to end, anyways, regardless of how he feels. Sure, he might feel tense and nervous again. Sure, he might get burnt out from the endless burden of work and responsibility that he takes upon himself to keep his mind busy. And sure, this new Earth is scary and threatens to spiral out in so many different possible directions, an equation made up of only unknown variables.

But now he feels a little less like he's solving it alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for how awkward the nsfw might be! this is my first time posting anything like this fgwajgsdhk so... but happy bday month theo!! ily!! kiss!!!


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